


Blood in the Cut

by Tousled_Sky



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hotpot, Hurt No Comfort, Loneliness, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-10-03 03:26:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10234799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tousled_Sky/pseuds/Tousled_Sky
Summary: "It was like he was broken. His life was a car accelerating down a steep slope; the brake pedal flat to the floor but not doing a damn thing, the emergency brake snapped off in his hand uselessly, the keys ripped out of the ignition but the engine still roaring - spinning the wheels faster and faster, the rpms ramping up as the speed pressed further into triple digits, edging into the red. "





	

**Author's Note:**

> "Guess I'm contagious; it'd be safest if you ran. Fuck, that's what they all just end up doing in the end" - K. Flay, Blood in the Cut.  
> Izaya isn't stupid. He must know people despise him.  
> I wasn't well liked in my school - in fact, I was actively hated by students and staff alike.  
> It's not a nice feeling. Here's Izaya liking it just about as much as I did.  
> Enjoy.

Izaya knew that Shinra hadn't done it to be malicious, per say. Not at all.

Shinra didn't seem to be much of a malicious person - he was far too much a cinnamon roll for that. And even if he were, Izaya doubts he would have taken the time to think about Izaya enough to purposely exclude him - he wouldn't likely spare Izaya a second of his thoughts. After all, it was more than likely that Shinra's thoughts were just a looping mantra of _Celty Celty Celty_ , going on so often that it was surely burned into his mind - a brand on his brain.

So no, Shinra's intents in this were not mean-spirited. He hadn't excluded Izaya from the hotpot just to be cruel.

So then, why, why did it hurt so badly?

It really shouldn't, Izaya mused, laying back onto the rooftop of his apartment building. He could feel the cold of the concrete - though muffled by his coat - soaking upwards through the fabric to settle a chill on his shoulderblades and spine. Above him, the black sky monopolized his vision, dipping down to be broken by the tops of skyscrapers that Izaya could just barely see from the corners of his vision; they were so secondary in his mind that they could have been the craggy peaks of mountains instead of Tokyo's skyline. No, Izaya's vision was focused on the stars above him - more visible here than nearly anywhere else in the city, but still dulled from their true glory.

Izaya tossed the stories of the constellations around in his mind for a few seconds, but those couldn't hold his attention. In fact, the only thing that managed to hold his attention for the past few hours was the thought of _oh god this hurts why does this hurt so badly?_ No other thought or activity could take his mind away from obsessing over the pain. Even the bottle of vodka that he'd brought up here - usually a favorite of his - was tossed aside after only a few sips of liquid fire.

Now, though, Izaya reached for it - perhaps in a futile attempt for a distraction from the thoughts running in circles in his mind; but he couldn't focus on the taste, or the burn, or the weight of the alcohol like a hot stone in his stomach. No, all he could focus on was the clenching of his heart that constricted his neck like hands encircling it.

The worst part was, it wasn't like Shinra was particularly picky about his guests - he'd invited a bunch of high schoolers, for fucks sake. Kida, Anri, Mida - Miki - the air-conditioner boy (the vodka must be getting to Izaya more than he thought, after all).

And.

Shinra had invited Shizuo.

Of fucking course.

Shinra would rather spend time with a monster than with Izaya. Rather spend time with a beast than a god that loved him so.

...But that wasn't really true, was it? Shizuo may have been a brute, but - if he was completely honest with himself - Izaya was the monster. Shizuo was big and scary and blond, but people were drawn to him. Izaya was small and gentle-looking and pretty, but people whispered his name with hatred, with fear.

The reason Shinra hadn't invited Izaya wasn't to be cruel to Izaya, but to be kind to the other guests at his home. No one wanted Izaya there, and it wasn't because they were mean.

It was because Izaya was mean. He was terrible and pretentious and annoying, and no one wanted him around. No one wanted him at the party.

It hurt, but it wasn't like this was an epiphany for Izaya. He already knew that people didn't like him. But yet he kept doing the same stupid shit over and over, dragging himself further and further down. Kept burning bridges with a smile burned onto his face while his mind burned with pain. Why did he keep doing this to himself?

Because he couldn't stop. He couldn't control himself - he didn't know how. It was like he was broken. His life was a car accelerating down a steep slope; the brake pedal flat to the floor but not doing a damn thing, the emergency brake snapped off in his hand uselessly, the keys ripped out of the ignition but the engine still roaring - spinning the wheels faster and faster, the rpms ramping up as the speed pressed further into triple digits, edging into the red.

But, it's not like it would matter if he changed, anyways. No one would believe that the shift in his behavior truly represented a shift in his alignment. No one would believe that he'd changed, that he wanted to be a good person.

And so Izaya was hated, and no one wanted him around, so no one invited him to hotpots.

At least if Shinra hadn't invited Izaya because he was being cruel, it would have been an active action - he would have been thinking about Izaya, caring about how Izaya reacted. In this case, though, Shinra was thinking about Izaya only long enough to not think about him again - just noticing his name long enough to cross it off the guest list.

And Izaya had considered Shinra his friend. Hell, Shinra had outright said, previously, that he was Izaya's friend. And it hurt to know that in truth, he wasn't. If he couldn't even invite Izaya to a stupid social function like hotpot, then he didn't really care for him, did he?

...But no, that was just Izaya playing victim again. This wasn't Shinra's fault - he was making sure his other guests were happy through Izaya's absence - a one-for-all situation. That wasn't to say that Shinra was Izaya's friend - no, Izaya was quite sure he wasn't. But that wasn't by error on Shinra's end.

Shinra didn't love Izaya, but it wasn't because Shinra wanted to hurt Izaya. Rather, it was because Izaya was unlovable.

Izaya felt the cold of the glass against his lips in what he already knew was a futile attempt to quiet the voices in his mind.

This was ridiculous. It really was. That a god like Izaya should be up here - sulking, of all things - because he hadn't been invited to a hotpot party. He knew he was being self-pitying, and vaguely felt embarrassed. Felt a bit like a child who was sulking after getting in trouble and being sent to his room without dinner - "I bet I'll starve to death from not eating tonight, and then my parents'll be sorry" - but he didn't, couldn't, care. He felt absolutely sick with misery, over something so inconsequential.

And despite the pain in his head and the soreness behind his eyes, there's no liquid warmth from his eyes to match that in his stomach. Izaya gets a bit angry when he doesn't feel any tears coming; rather, there's just a heavy numbness settling over him. And it's terrible.

Anything would be preferable to this. Crying, screaming, an emotional breakdown. But no, instead he was just draped with a cloak that locks all the hurt within him; dulled but still there, dark and vicious and exhausting.

Izaya wants to be able to just cry and get it out of his system.

But he also wants someone to love him, and look how that's turning out for him.

That thought sends a twisting pain between his ribs, but still doesn't tear through the heavy numbness enough to let the pain flow out of Izaya. Instead, it just clings to him and festers.

Izaya just lies there on the roof, staying as such until the stars fade completely with the early morning's dull light.

He sits up and watches the sun rise, watches Tokyo's sky turn all the bright and terrible colors in his mind as the sun rips through the darkness like a knife through curtains.


End file.
